I love my box,
I found my box under a tree.
My box is full of old clocks,
My clocks are all stuck at three.
I'm sad my box never locks,
But it has a lid, so it's timeless treasures you can't see.
I bought a clock of my own.
Listen to it's softened chime.
In the box it is alone,
The shiniest with golden features sublime.
My clock stops; at three it's shown
The boxes curse in its prime.
The origins of the other clocks unknown,
But eventually we all run out of time.
write a poem about a box.
